


Morning Coffee

by melmac



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Coffee making, Domestic Fluff, First Time, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 21:59:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9404732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melmac/pseuds/melmac
Summary: The morning after their first time together Will decides to do something nice and simple for Hannibal. But nothing is ever simple where Hannibal is concerned.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moonstruckidiot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonstruckidiot/gifts), [TheSmolBirb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSmolBirb/gifts).



> Written to combat the taking over of Cheeto-in-Chief. Not beta'd
> 
> *Additional note added at the bottom

Will awoke in a state of confusion. There were no cold noses prodding his face amidst soft whimpers; no warm fur covering his feet, and no sounds of scratching canine paws against his front door. That’s how he normally woke every morning. Instead he only heard the quiet hum of distant traffic and felt the softness of brushed Egyptian cotton beneath his cheek, as his left hand rested on a warm solid mass of flesh. It only took another moment to realize he was in Hannibal’s bed; in Hannibal’s house; with Hannibal still sleeping quietly and very naked beside him.

Last night wasn’t planned, at least not by him. A simple invitation to a dinner that was anything but simple turned into a quiet chat in front of the fire sipping a brandy he was too afraid to ask the cost of—that turned into a fumbled attempt at a kiss. That kiss, once taken up by, as far as he was concerned; the world’s best kisser, then became a race to see how fast clothes could be removed while a little drunk on brandy and overwhelming lust. Will had actually allowed himself to be _carried_ while naked and kissing to the master bedroom, or he think he did, he honestly couldn’t remember since the rest of the evening was a blur of intense feelings, emotions and a great deal of noisy moaning, mostly on his part. 

He slowly sat up, easing the covers back, looking at the smattering of bruises that littered his body. A sight that, to his surprise, brought a smile to his face. He climbed out of bed, walking quietly to Hannibal’s closet since he didn’t see his clothes anywhere. Hopefully he wouldn’t mind if he borrowed a pair of boxers and maybe a sweater—definitely wasn’t as invasive as what he allowed him to do last night. He slipped black boxers on, wincing when his muscles protested in places he never imagined.

The plan was to make them breakfast, starting with coffee. After Hannibal fed him so well and lavished him with smelly oils in a luxurious bath before bed, it was the least he could do. He slipped a red cashmere sweater over his head and crept downstairs.

He came face to face with Hannibal’s pristine kitchen and for the first time felt intimidated. He’d never paid much attention to it before, since whenever he’d been there Hannibal was usually moving around, apron tied around his waist, pouring and chopping God knows what while Will unburdened himself with his latest anxiety. In the eerie calm of morning it looked shiny and imposing, but Will soldiered on, convinced that a kitchen is just a kitchen and making coffee was easy.

 _Or it should be._ He thought as he stood in front of the weird contraption Hannibal used to make coffee. It looked like something out of a Tim Burton film (he wondered if Hannibal would even get that reference). After staring at it for a full two minutes, he decided even Hannibal had to have a normal coffee maker somewhere, I mean there had to be mornings where he was like _fuck it_ , and decided to be a normal human. He ignored the espresso maker, because that wasn’t happening. Will opened the cabinets until he found something that looked familiar—a glass French press. That he could handle. No— he’d never used one, but it looked simple enough.  He looked around until he found a bag of coffee—whole beans of course. Now he needed to find a damn grinder. This simple task was growing more complicated by the moment. Upon further cupboard inspection, he found what looked like a grinder, as best he could tell.  It was definitely not the ones he’d seen where you held it and pushed one button to make it go. This one sat on the counter and had settings. How the hell was he supposed to know what to set it to? He picked a random setting and turned it on. He nearly jumped with the obnoxiously loud sound it made. He turned it off quickly, and listened to see hear if there was any movement upstairs. He heard nothing, so he turned it back on, wondering how much coffee he needed. Didn’t anything come with instructions? He left his phone upstairs, so he couldn’t even consult Google. Once the damn thing shut off by itself, he started scooping out the coffee out, filling the glass container about half-way. Now he needed water—hot water.  He figured it was too much to ask to find a tea kettle sitting on the stove like in a normal kitchen. He walked over to where Hannibal kept his pots and pulled out a small one and filled it up with water. After a few tries he worked out how to turn the stove top on and waited for the water to boil while he went to find eggs.  

Of course, the eggs were in a special egg holder and not a plebian carton _(pretentious prick)._ Will shook his head. He refused to think bad thoughts about the man. Hannibal was who he was and pretended to be no nothing else—it was a trait he admired.  He pulled out 4 eggs and set them on the counter. The water in the pot started to bubble so he pulled it off the stove and went to pour in the French press. About half of it splashed onto the counter and onto him, which had him hissing in pain and muttering “fuck!”, but he got the water in the stupid thing. Now for the plunger and he could move on. Except it barely went down. He pushed harder but it staled a third of the way down.  He put in way too much coffee. He resisted the urge to throw the thing across the room and wondered how quickly he could find a Starbucks.

Hannibal had crept downstairs at some point after the coffee grinding, watching the whole debacle just out of sight. He’d felt Will get up earlier and decided to stay put and see exactly what he intended to do. The idea he wanted to surprise him with breakfast touched him greatly, but another part of him was amused by watching Will completely harried and out of his depths wearing his boxers and red sweater. He decided to let it find its natural conclusion before stepping in.   

Will took a deep breath, and walked the pot over to the sink to pour out the coffee. He tipped it and the weight of it all caused it to slip from its silver cradle and it crashed into the sink in a mess of broken glass and sodden coffee ground.

“FUCK!” Will tossed the stupid cradle on top of the mess. “I just want to make fucking coffee!”

He went to pull the mess out of the sink when a voice stopped him.

“You’ll cut your hand Will, you’re too agitated.”

_Of course. Of-fucking-course._

He rounded on him. “Were you there the whole time?”

Hannibal tilted his head slightly in that way he did before he hid his true motive. “No, not the entire time. I simply didn’t want to interfere.”

Will narrowed his eyes, letting him know he didn’t believe him for a second. “Well, I’m glad I can least be a source of amusement for you, if nothing else.”

Hannibal came into the kitchen, gently pushing Will out of the way as he carefully started to remove the ruined French Press from the sink.

“You are much more than that.”

Will scoffed. “I can’t even make fucking coffee.”

Hannibal raised his eyebrow at the expletive but let it go. “Will…”

“No, Hannibal, look. I can’t…this can’t be a one-sided thing, where you do everything for me and I just…”

“Just what Will?”

“ _Take._ It can’t be like this—me always taking from you. I just wanted to do this one thing. I mean it wouldn’t have been as elaborate as what you’d do, but I can make a decent omelet...”

“Then make me an omelet.”

 “What?”

“You said you wanted to make us breakfast. You’ll find everything you need in the pantry. I’ll clean this up and make us coffee.”

Will looked skeptical. “You won’t offer advice, or _suggest_ anything?”

Hannibal tossed the last of the glass into the bin. “I leave it all to your capable hands.”

**

True to his word Hannibal didn’t utter a word while Will fumbled around his kitchen trying to find everything he needed. He caught the occasional raised eyebrow or frown once in a while, but Hannibal kept completely silent unless Will asked him where to find something. Then it turned into a game. Will kept asking for more and more preposterous ingredients watching the line of Hannibal’s jaw grow tighter and his lips grow thinner. When Will asked where he kept the peanut butter Hannibal had enough.

“Will! If you’re not going to take this seriously…” Will burst out laughing at the barely contained rage on Hannibal’s face.

Hannibal frowned slightly, jaw-unclenching. “Will Graham, you are very rude and not funny at all.”

Will tried in vain to remove the smile from his face. “Maybe not, but you definitely are. I thought you were about to grab that knife and throw it into my skull.”

Hannibal went back to making the coffee. “I may have, but I was worried you’d turn around at the last minute, and I didn’t want to hurt your face.”

Will rolled his eyes and walked over to Hannibal. “How touching.”

Hannibal handed him the first poured cup of coffee, and Will took it gratefully, still smiling.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay out of it if was going to turn it into a complete debacle.”

“You knew who I was when you agreed to stay here last night. I can’t pretend to be anything else.”

And Will never wanted him to. “All kidding aside…I really want to be able to do more for you.”

Hannibal moved to the stove to begin putting away the curious concoction of ingredients Will had pulled out.

“If you’re serious, there is a way we can even the playing field so to speak.”

He tried not to moan over the insanely good coffee he was now drinking. “Of course. Whatever you like.”

Hannibal looked pleased and went about pulling out real ingredients for their breakfast.

“Good. How much do you know about Shibari?”

Will took another wonderful sip. “Nothing. I mean I’ve never heard of it.”

“Well it’s something I can teach you, after we eat of course. It’d be very helpful to me, if you’re in agreement.”

Will just nodded, thinking it was probably some research he was working on, or even a bizarre furniture polishing technique, it was hard to say with him. But when he looked up and caught the slight wicked smile on Hannibal’s face, he wondered what he’d just agreed to. If nothing else, life would never be boring with Hannibal.

 

[What Shibari is](http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/health-and-families/features/fifty-shades-of-grey-bondage-and-sm-sex-in-relationships-10036644.html)

 

**The End.**

 

 


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